


Scars

by HellsPurestDevil



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 17:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14430987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HellsPurestDevil/pseuds/HellsPurestDevil
Summary: Scars tell many stories. Some scars are harder to accept then others. Some take a little push to come to terms with some are loved some are hatedTwo people bond over the ones they have received over the years





	Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some scars are harder to accept then others. Some take a little push to come to terms with

Philip's body was bathed in the soft morning light filtering through the badly closed curtains around the bed. She had woken up several moments before and had been caught off guard and in turn enchanted by the way the light played on his naked chest....

...... _On_   _That damn scar_.

Out of all his scars, this one that she knew the best. Knew how he got, when he got it. _How terrible his screams were when they took the shrapnel out of his chest._ It was the scar she always refused to touch. Refused to think of, refused to even acknowledge. But at the moment the light made it hard. The light made sharp contrasts of all the ridges and the grooves of damaged skin. Made it hard to ignore.

Theo never wanted to think about that day, to think of that moment when she had turned around and saw him, Philip, lying on the forest floor, unmoving. How in one brief, but interminable moment, she had been certain that the other had been dead. Oh, How her heart had seemed to stop, a scream stuck somewhere in her throat, a sudden fierce pain banging at her temples. How quickly she had learned in that precise moment that this was love, and that this was also loss and that this was the kind of pain she could never ever endure as long as she lived. And then He had moved and in the end things had turned out all right, but she had never forgotten. The nightmares were still there, And the scar was there, reminders of the pain that had almost been her's.

That could still be her's one day.

In her thoughts, She startled when a hand lightly brushed her right cheek. Philip was awake and looking at her with bright knowing eyes. She hadn't wanted him to see what he now probably saw in her face. She felt naked and raw. _Vulnerable_. A horrid combination for someone so proud like her.

Philip took her hand with his own, pulled them up to siting positions and brought it slowly to the scar on his chest, lying her palm flat over it. Her breath hitched and she clenched her jaw. Every muscle in her left arm tensed and she had to fight the strong impulse to retract her hand. It felt like it was on fire, the effort of holding it against something she had sworn never to touch making it tremble.

She knew he was looking at her, could feel his steady gaze on her. She forced herself to breathe normally, to let out the breath she was holding, shaky, lungs burning, and to trust him. With infinite tenderness Philip took one of Theo's fingers between two of his and traced the edges of the scar with it. Slowly. Painfully slow. She tensed even more. She could feel the ridges, the bumps, the hollows of the distorted and maimed skin under the pad of her finger and it was killing her. She bit her lip and shot a worried and, possibly, a bit fearful (though she would never admit to it) glance at Philips face, where it was only met but a calm and loving look.

Back and forth, back and forth, Philip traced her finger tip against the ridges of the scar, refusing to miss any grooves or dips. The tension in Theo's arm was becoming unbearable. She wanted to pull her hand away, wanted to retreat it to her side, to safety. Or to at least touch something of Philip's that wasn't damaged, that was alive. His cheek, the soft part in the dip of his waist, the curve of his collarbone, his lips. Anything but this. But Philip wouldn't allow her. She could see it in his eyes. This was something they would have to accept. He had come to do that years ago. Now it was her turn.

Theo could feel it. Could feel it seeping from the ragged flesh, into her finger, all the way up her arm. Could feel it travel in her veins, like blood, like poison and nestle itself in her heart. She could feel loss, the same loss that she felt all those short years ago. The feeling was the same. This was the loss she had felt then, and she couldn't bear to feel it anymore. She made a movement to move away, but Philip was quicker and shifted his hand and grabbed her wrist instead. A tight, sure, grip. Theo sent him an angry look, though the slight sound of anguish that escaped her lips before she could stop it betrayed how she really felt.

But Philip was relentless. He kept Theo's hand over the scar. He gave a small touch to her chin with his free hand to make her look up. Philip held his gaze, a small smile on his lips, comforting and trusting and so full of love, Theo had to swallow hard, past the lump in her throat. She would never get used to being looked at this way. Philip waited for her to relax, then leaned his head forward.

The softness of his lips, did little at first to calm the tremble in her body. But when they disconnected, She found herself wishing she could feel his lips once again. Feel anything that wasn't marred with loss. Theo closed her hand into a fist and left it there, unable to take anymore. That was much better. A fist she understood, a fist she knew how to use and what it meant. Philip seemed satisfied with that. His free hand traveled up the back of her neck, soft fingers ghosting against her skin. Pressure at the base of her neck invited her to lean against him. She accepted the invitation. She leaned, her head pressing against his chest, just above her closed fist. Just below his jaw. His head came down, eyes closed, cheek pressing against the top of her head.

" _I'm still here_." His whisper barely piercing the silence of the room. " _I'm still here_ ".

Yes he was. And with that, Theo let her eyes close. She could still feel the ridges of the scar against the back of her closed fingers, could still feel the pangs of loss traveling through her veins like burning rivers. But underneath it all, like a balm to soothe the burns, she could also feel the steady beating of Philip's heart.

The loss was gone. Slow acceptance had taken its place.


End file.
